


Lock & Key

by demonsonthemoon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (there's a description of that, ? - Freeform, Cuffs, I'll Keep You Safe Here With Me verse, M/M, Panic Attack, idk - Freeform, implied non-sexual bondage, it's not overly graphic but it's there), the authors just couldn't stop thinking about those damn cuffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonsonthemoon/pseuds/demonsonthemoon
Summary: Two nights. Two motels. Two times Bucky and Clint have trouble finding rest.
Two times the cuffs reappear.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sara_holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I'll Keep You Safe Here With Me.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907085) by [sara_holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/pseuds/sara_holmes). 



> This fic is supposed to be read as some deleted scenes from the story "I'll Keep You Safe Here With Me" by Sara_holmes. It will make absolutely no sense if you haven't read that fic first. If that's the case, go read that fic. It's amazing.

It's another motel on the side of another motorway. That's all Clint knows, because he had started to doze off a few hours before and hasn't been able to keep track of where they were since then.

If finding a way to escape had been #1 on his to-do list, this kind of behaviour would have been unforgivable. As things stood, it wasn't really on his list at all. A fact he was kind of finally accepting. Kind of. Maybe.

It definitely wasn't the worst room Barnes had rented, Cling thought idly as the Winter Soldier checked it for bugs or hidden dangers. The vibe it was giving off was along the line of “someone probably died in this motel at some point, but chances are high it wasn't in this particular room.”

Barnes's check was thorough, but not more nor less than usual. Still, Clint could feel that the other man was coiled with tension. He hadn't talked much for the greater part of the day – one of the reasons why Clint dozed off so easily – and had kept on throwing Clint sidelong glances – which should have kept him awake but at this point he is too used to it to care.

He doesn't prod Barnes to try and get him to talk. It's not worth it.

They've eaten already, so Clint just goes shower. He lets the warm water run over his face with a happy sigh. Forget everything he thought about this motel. It is _awesome_. Being in close corners with a legendary assassin in a bad mood is draining. And even though the water pressure isn't good enough to get an actual massage, it still eases a little of the tension in Clint's shoulders. He is careful not to let the spray hit his knife wound directly, though. Once he feels functional again, he quickly washes himself and gets out.  
Barnes is looking out of the window. He doesn't even twitch when Newt comes in. The archer settles down on the bed he had claimed earlier and turns on the TV. A few minutes later, Barnes walks to the bathroom.

There's nothing interesting on, as always, so Clint fills his time with channel surfing. When he hears the water being cut off in the next room, he turns off the TV. He doesn't think Barnes will be in the mood to watch anything. Clint himself is not really in the mood. So it would really just be better for all involved to go to sleep and make it an early start the next day.

When Barnes comes out of the bathroom, hair wet but fully dressed, Clint is lying on top of his bed in a t-shirt and his boxers.

Clint holds out one hand. Barnes stares at it. He frowns. Then he tilts his head slightly, confused. Clint is certain that he shouldn't find this expression endearing. This is the Winter Soldier he's talking about. As usual, he blames it all on Stockholm syndrome.

“Cuffs. I'm going to sleep, and you're twitchy as hell, so it'll be easier for both of us if I put the cuffs on.”

Barnes opens his mouth slightly in surprise. There's gratitude in his eyes, and it softens his features a bit. He seems on the verge of saying something, then closes his lips again.

Clint tries not to be disappointed. Barnes picks up the cuffs from his bag and passes them to him without a word. Clint snaps them on, making sure they're loose enough not to cause any circulation problem.

“Wanna check?” He gestures at his ankles.

Bucky reaches forward automatically, but stops himself. He shakes his head. He's frowning again, but this time more at himself than at Clint, as if he isn't sure of why he's acting like he is.

Clint knows better than to point any of this out. He simply slips his legs undr the blanket and settles for the night.

The cuffs are an inconvenience. Especially if he jerks awake from either a sudden noise or a nightmare, and fails to remember that they're there before he tries to stand up and inevitably fails. Also, if he has to pee. They're absolute hell when he has to pee. But except for that, they don't bother him that much. Clint is used to sleeping in all sorts of uncomfortable positions, so having his ankles cuffed really isn't the worst. At least he has a bed.

It's an inconvenience, but not much more. Having his ankles cuffed doesn't cause him to panic, doesn't stop him from sleeping, doesn't make his nightmares worse. So when Bucky is like this, anxious and tensed - and Clint know that he will keep watch all night, is already impressed that he took the time for a shower – when Bucky is like this, it's easier for everyone involved if Clint puts on the cuffs.

It's not really about trust anymore. The fact that Barnes didn't even check whether the chain was secure proves that. Clint Barton's life is a mess, and somehow at some point he started trusting the Winter Soldier and said Soldier has started to trust him back. It's crazy, but they've moved past it already. This is about reassurance. It's about making things easier for Barnes, because this way he doesn't even have to check whether Clint is still there and still on his side.

Clint considers all of this as he tries to fall asleep, and he sighs. His life is definitely a mess.

He hates his capacity of self-awareness for telling him this is probably just the beginning.

 

 

They're chasing after Hydra, but if Clint is honest it feels like _they_ are the ones on the run. ( _They are. They still are.)_ He hates this. He hates this because of how much it exhausts him. This is when the difference between his normal body and Bucky's superhuman one becomes obvious. Clint hates it.

It's an old song, if he's honest. This feeling of inedequacy. It dates from long before Loki. The god just made it worse. Worse, and more lethal.

Clint has always been the weakest link in the chain. He's the normal guy who shoots arrows. And he hates it.

He also hates the fact that he's jealous. He's jealous of Barnes' body, and that's fucked up. That's not right. Because Barnes never asked for this body. Hell, the whole reason he's so fucked up is that he didn't ask for it. And sure, he's strong, he's fast, his arm doubles as a bottle opener, and that's cool. But Clint's pretty sure it wasn't worth it.

So he swallows all of these stupid thoughts and steps onto his own pride, and he asks Bucky for a break. “Sorry.” He knows he shouldn't apologize for his physical needs, but he can't help it. “I need an actual night of sleep. I don't want to slow you down, but it's either that or being deadweight in a fight when you actually need me.”

Bucky nods, of course. Bucky understands. Bucky fully knows how fragile Clint is, since he accidentally nearly killed him then nursed him back to health.

Bucky is fucking graceful through all of this, and finds him a nice motel, and pays for the room with stolen money, and Clint hates every part of it. But his body aches and his brain is screaming for rest, so he doesn't protest about any of it.

Bucky is restless, though. He checks the room as thoroughly as usual, but then starts hovering around Clint. “What is it?” Clint finally snaps. He's tired, and Bucky is putting him on edge, and that is definitely not a good combination.

At least Bucky seems apologetic. He looks smaller, like this, arms close to his body and eyes slightly downcast. He scratches his neck with his metal hand, slowly. “Do you mind if I go on reckon? If I leave you here?”

Clint gapes. He hadn't expected this. He should have, though. Bucky can't afford to stop, can't afford to slow down. Clint is slowing him down. It's normal to leave him behind.

He wants to scream.

Of course he knows that this isn't actually what's happening. He's not being left behind. It's just that Bucky needs less sleep than him, and it makes sense to use the time that gives him for reckon. He can do reckon alone. It's not an overly dangerous job. Well, it's one of the less overly dangerous jobs that they do everyday.

But it's still dangerous. And Bucky will be alone.

But he can't afford to lose time.

Clint draws his internal debate to a halt. “Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

Bucky looks worried. Of course, the man has been trained to read emotions, he's overly perceptive. Clint's put on bravado doesn't stand a chance.

Clint shrugs. “I don't like it. But I know you want to. I know you need to. So just...” Just don't die. Stay safe. Clint can't say those things, because they're promises that can't be kept. “Just don't do anything ridiculous. Wait for me before you attack. I don't care if everything looks totally fine from the outside. You wait for me, okay?”

Bucky nods. He packs a few weapons, things he can carry on him, and leaves his bag behind. Clint is sitting on one of the beds, silently watching him. Bucky is about to grab for the door when he stops. He turns back towards Clint, unsure, then takes a few steps. He quickly kisses him on the lips, then leaves, still without uttering a words.

And Clint is left alone.

He doesn't fight the exhaustion anymore. He takes off his jeans and shirts and gets into bed. He closes his eyes as soon as his head touches the pillow.

He doesn't fall asleep.

He tries to keep his body still, to slow down his breathing. It takes all of his focus and energy. But still he does not fall asleep.

He feels cold. Hidden by his eyelids, the room becomes a desert of _nothing_. He knows that, if he screams, nobody will hear it. He knows that, if he tries, no sound will leave his lips.

He opens his eyes.

Raising his hand in front of his face, Clint can see that it's shaking. He feels the panic attack building in his chest, making his heart flutter and straining his lungs. He doesn't even get up to take his bow, just swings an arm over the side of his bed to grab it where it's lying next to his bag.

He keeps it close to him, running his thumb over the hard surface.

It helps, a little, but not enough.

Clint knows he used to be able to just power through these attacks. It was probably unhealthy, sure, but it worked. Except that, lately, he hasn't _had_ to do that. Beause Bucky was always there. And even before they actually knew each other, he was always able to get him out of his panic.

But Bucky isn't here now, and that's probably what caused this whole mess in the first place. Which is horribly pathetic.

This is exactly what Clint had been trying to avoid. Being reliant on others never brings any good. And people being reliant on him is probably worse. This is why he ran away from New-York, from Natasha, from the Avengers.

But Clint gets attached. It's what he does. It's how he got Natasha, and how he got Bucky. And even if he tries to run away, he knows Bucky won't. It's not his style. The guy was tortured for years, had his memory wiped, was turned into a brainless killing machine, and he's still fighting. He's still standing. And sure, he's been avoiding a certain person for what Clint considers an unhealthy amount of time, but when you take into account everything that has happened to him? Clint thinks the man has the right to take his time.

All of this to say that Bucky will come back.

He'll come back for Clint.

He might do something stupid, might get himself in a dangerous situation, but he _will_ come back for Clint. He's the goddamn Winter Soldier, for fuck's sake. He can handle a little dangerous.

He'll come back, which means that Clint only has two things to do. #1: Stay right there where he is. #2: Actually get some rest so that he can be of some use the next morning. This should be easy. Literally no other mission could be easier.

But Clint's body is still shaking, and he's still cold even though he has pulled his blanket over himself and his bow.

Stay where he is. Sleep.

Clint has an idea. It's crazy and completely ridiculous, but desperate times call for desperate measures right? Right.

He stands up, slowly, trying to keep his breathing even. His head is spinning slightly and he closes his eyes for a moment before walking to Bucky's bag. He crouches down next to it.

“Damnit, Barton,” he whispers to himself. He doesn't want to go through Bucky's stuff. It feels wrong. Sure, they've lived in close quarters for months now, and there's probably nothing in this bag that will surprise Clint. Probably. But that's not the point. The point is something about trust. About respect.. Boundaries.

But... Time. Measures.

Clint closes his eyes, opens the bag, and starts going through everything that's in it. He avoids the bundles of knives, one of Bucky's guns, checks under the folds of clothes, and he finally finds them. Clint lets out a triumphing “Ah!” as he takes out the pair of cuffs. They key is in the lock, probably so it wouldn't get lost anywhere while Bucky didn't have use of it.

Clint stares at the prize in his hands. This is stupid. It's probably not gonna work. It's definitely not gonna work.

But then again, if it doesn't work... what? If it doesn't work, Clint just has to put the cuffs back where they belong, and no one will be the wiser. He'll keep his crazy idea to himself and that will be that. Back to your usual “stare at the ceiling and count your breaths because you can't sleep without getting nightmares” schedule.

Clint decides to just stop thinking. He goes back to his bed, opens the cuffs, and snaps them on his ankles. The clicking noise they make as they close is loud and familiar. Clint closes his eyes, grips his bow, and breathes.

He can. He finds out he can actually breathe, and it is the most glorious feeling in the world. He gets back under the covers.

He doesn't want to rationalize it. Inspecting his own brain has only ever brought him trouble. But he can't help it. He's calmer now, but it doesn't mean that falling asleep is going to be easy. Sure, he's even more tired than before his panic attack, but if tiredness always meant sleep, nobody would have invented alcohol.

So he moves his legs a bit, listens to the chain clink, and wonders why the sound is reassuring. Maybe it's because Bucky will come. Because this is something Clint used to do for him, to calm him down. Maybe the reminder that this is something he can do for him is enough.

Clint doesn't have the answer. He carefully lets go of his bow and leaves it on the ground, where he can reach for it. He closes his eyes again.

 

 

Years later, when their life isn't so much of a mess - or at least not so obviously so – when Clint and Bucky have settled in what passes off as domesticity for two deadly snipers, someone finds the old pair of cuffs in the bottom drawer of one of their bedside tables. The comments that follow are far from unexpected. Something about how nobody ever asked for so much information about their sex lives, about how they should have known these two were kinky bastards and that they weren't judging, oh no, as long as it was all safe, sane and consensual they had their blessing to do whatever they want.

Bucky and Clint look at each other and smile. They never correct the assumption that this is about sex. Maybe it could be.

It's easier to let others think what they think than to explain it anyway. There are a lot of details about what they went through together that they probably will never be ready to share. But that's okay. As long as they feel safe with one another, it's okay.

 


End file.
